#mastersoftheair

[liebgottlover]

[austinbutlerslovers]

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🕯️ Mid-October 🕯️

🔗 Possessive 10.20 Available

🥀Summary You begin dating a famous actor who can’t get enough of you, but when his affection becomes fixation, you slowly realize his passion hides a need for possession.

🔗 Fall & Forever 10.22 Available

❤️‍🩹Summary When Gale returns home changed by war, you do everything in your power to guide him back to the life your shared and the love you promised forever.

🔗 Worth It 10.25 Available

🧢 Summary Halloween in New York is a chaotic mess, crowds, costumes, and noise you’d rather dodge. But when Hank calls you out, you figure it just might be worth enduring the night for him.

🕯️ End of October 🕯️

🔗 Honey Bunny 10.28 Available

🐰 Summary Austin doesn’t want to go out on Halloween night, and instead decides to stay in and watch scary movies with you. But when you show up wearing a naughty Bunny costume it’s an unexpected treat he’s more than willing to take.

🔗 Masquerade 10.30 Available

🎭 Summary As an up-and-coming celebrity, you only had a fleeting moment with Austin Butler, but the attraction was instant. Weeks later, at a glittering masquerade ball, you find yourself drawn to a handsome stranger who feels achingly familiar, and take a chance to find out just how deep his attraction goes. 

🔗 Special Attention 10.31 Available

⚔️ Summary Feyd Rautha has captured you from your home world keeping you as his prized possession. His depravity has no bounds until a fateful event forces him to realize how special you are to him.  ✨ (Bonus fic TBA) ✨

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[callumsturn]

Sweet John

Summary: John keeps finding ways to stop by the hospital to see you, until he finally gets what he wants.

Pairing: Major John "Bucky" Egan x female reader Content/Warnings: John Egan being a charming bastard, 18+ smut (minors don't interact), unprotected sex. This starts real innocent, but it's really not. Notes: If you have any requests you’d like me to write please let me know! Comments and reblogs are always appreciated! Thank you!

As you're helping wounded soldiers, rushing through the corridors of the campaign hospital at base, you bump into none other than Major John "Bucky" Egan.

You look up to see his smug smile. "Sorry, sweetheart." His hand gently over your arm as a way to balance you.

If you didn't know better, you'd even believe he might have done it unintentionally.

"It's alright Major." You tried to rush past him, with towels in both your arms to the end of the corridor.

"You shouldn't carry all that yourself." He takes half of the load from your arms. "Let me help. It's the least I could do."

He carries on up the corridor, following close behind you. You turn your head to him for a few seconds. You know you should be resisting. But he's very, very persuasive. Even when his uniform is covered with blood.

"You have blood on your uniform." You simply state.

"Oh, yeah." He shrugs, not bothered to wipe it off. "You know how it is." he tells you "Can't even breathe at battle without getting some blood splashed on you." He looks at you. "You've got some on you as well."

You look down at your own white uniform. "It has seen better days, yes." You continue to walk to the end of the corridor, entering one of the patient rooms.

John follows after you and looks around as soon as you're inside. "Oh, you're taking these to..." he trails off a bit as he sees who's laying in that bed. One of the men from his squad.

"Hi Sergeant. How are we feeling?" You spoke to the man resting on the bed.

The Sergeant looks up at you. "I've been better." As soon as he sees the Major behind you he tries to sit up, still a bit shaky. "Major." he says, his voice hoarse.

"I'm gonna clean that open wound and switch it up, is that alright?" you asked the man in the bed.

"Thank you, miss." he adds as you begin to gather your tools.

You can feel the Major's gaze on the back of your head as he watches from the doorway.

"It's gonna hurt a little. Take this." You hand the patient a bottle of alcohol to drink.

He takes it, grunting a little from the pain of just moving. He takes a sip and sets the bottle down. As you pour liquid over the wound to clean it, the Sergeant's leg moves in pain. He grunts loudly and moves in his bed. You feel the Major aproach the bed and hold the Sergeant with no trouble. He tries to move again but the Major's grip is firm.

"It's alright. Just hold still now." Major Egan tries to calm the man. You see the compassion and concern on his face. His hand is still on the Sergeant's lower body, ready to steady him again if necessary.

You say nothing, continuing to clean the wound and prepare the needle to stitch. The Major remains close. He watches you work, and his focus is almost entirely on exactly that. The Sergeant squirms in the bed again, but the Major remains in place.

"Easy." the Major tried to calm him down.

"Almost done, Sergeant." you mention as you finish stitching him up.

"Th- thank you." The Sergeant glances toward the Major. "She's real good, I'm telim' ya, sir."

You chuckle as you begin bandaging his wound. "Now... you shouldn't get up. Just try to rest and no missions for a few days. This needs to heal properly."

"Roger that, nurse." the Sergeant replies with a smile. "Will do." he finishes. "Could I get some more of that bottle, though? You know how it is."

You smile as you hand him the bottle for the second time. He takes another sip, as you hear Major Egan chuckle, keeping his eyes on the man and then on you as you put the remainder of the supplies away in a near medical cart, back turned to both men.

"She's pretty, ain't she, sir?" the Sergeant asks his Major who's sitting beside him still, in a lower voice.

As you barely hear the Sergeants comment, you tried to pay no attention to it, not curious to hear the Major's response.

You hear the Major chuckle again. "She is. I'm sure she's even got herself a fella already. Some lucky bastard."

"Probably some high rank fella, too." the Sergeant continues jokingly.

"Not a high enough rank for that, no." You barely hear Major John say.

As you finish storing all utensils, you approach both men again. "You rest up Sergeant. I'll tend to other soldiers now."

The man thanks you, as he rests his head back on the pillow and closes his eyes. The Major still has his gaze on you as you walk past him.

You continue to go about your shift, working on other patients in other beds. You do your best to ignore the Major's gaze when he is watching you from afar.

"Am I under some kind of evaluation, Major?" You asked unfazed, not looking at him, but still tending to a patient.

Somewhat caught off guard by the question, the Major's calm demeanour slips a bit. "Uh... no. I was-" he clears his throat "Just... checking up on... on your patient care."

"On my patient care?" You chuckled. "How's that going then?"

"It's going very well." he replies a little too quickly.

"Well I'm glad." You paused. "Thank you for the help back there."

"Any time." he replies. You see that he wants to say something else, but stops himself. "You've got everything under control in here then?"

"Sure thing."

"Great." He clears his throat again. "I'm..." He's having trouble finding the right words. "I'll let you get back to work then."

"Thank you, Major."

"Yeah. Sure, no problem." He finally leaves the room. You don't see him again for a while, but notice his eyes on you several times over the rest of the week or so.

A few weeks passed and the hospital became less busy. Patients were recovering and the missions were being successful over all. You notice the change. It's more peaceful, which is just what both you and the soldiers needed.

But there is one thing that has changed your routine. Major John "Bucky" Egan has been coming by to see you more often. And each time he does, he stays a little longer and talks a little more. He always makes sure to pay careful attention to everything you say, and always makes an effort to keep the conversation going. You can feel the other nurses and doctors giving you disguised looks, wondering if there's something going on with the two of you.

The Major even shows up when you're not working, and seems to hang around to see when you start your shift or finish for the day. He's always just hanging back, not being too obvious about it. You found it quite charming actually, the effort he would go into just to talk to you for a little while. It was definitely flattering. He's a handsome man, and he's got a certain charm and confidence about him that you can't help but like. Although you're still unsure how to feel about all of the attention, and that uncertainty definitely shows on your face as he approaches you yet again, and starts up another conversation.

"Major Egan." You say after he approaches you.

"Nurse." he replies with a polite smile. He's carrying a coffee mug and offerts it to you. "I figured you might be tired after your shift."

You gladly accepted it. "That's incredibly thoughtful of you."

"I try." he shrugs his shoulders with a smile. You can see his gaze still on you as you take the mug. For a little while he doesn't say a thing, just watching you as you take a small sip from the cup.

Suddenly, he clears his throat a little and speaks again. "I was wondering... there's a cafe outside the base... I though it'd be nice to go there and get something to eat." he says. He's still looking you straight in the eyes while saying it, his body relaxed and his hand resting casually on the mug. "Would you like to join me?" he adds after a moment.

"Right now?" you ask calmly.

He nods after a moment. "If you'd like." he responds. "We could both do with getting some real food. Maybe something more comforting than camp rations." He gives you a small smile, still watching you carefully as he waits for your answer.

You smiled at him for a second. "I'd like that."

His smile grows a little wider. "Great." He starts to back away. "I'll... I'll head out there now." he says "I'll be waiting just outside. The cafe's not far."

"I'll be right there." you smile.

He gives you one more little smile before making his way outside and waiting just out front of the camp, leaning agaisnt the wall and looking out the gate.

You head to the locker room where you find a colleague. You head inside to change out of your work clothes.

"Hey there." she grins "how have things been with you?"

"Good." you smile.

"Major's been going around again today, hasn't he?", she asks, glancing over at you.

"Um... yeah, he has." you continue to change into your clothes.

"Yeah, I figured as much. He coming around more often now? Spending more time talking to you?"

You chuckle, embarrassed. "I guess, yes."

"Well, I figured he had a thing for you" she laughs. "It was only a matter of time before he started getting a little flirtatious. He's not very good at hiding it."

"I think he's just being nice." you said as you buttoned your shirt.

"Sweetie, he's more than just nice. Major Egan has a reputation aroud here, you know. He doesn't go around being sweet to just anyone."

"Well, I don't know. I don't want everyone to go around and talk about this. The other nurses are real nosy!"

"Oh cm'on, don't worry. They'll just tease you a bit if they can tell that something's going on. And besides, nothing exciting happens around the hospital, so they cling to anything." she paused "But you're lucky. The Major's a looker, and I'm sure that you wouldn't mind his attentions, huh?" She gives you a playful nudge as she asks.

You chuckle as you looked at her. "He really is a looker isn't he?"

"Hell yeah he is." she laughs "A real man after my own heart. And the more things continue like this between you guys, the more certain I am that you might be the lady that gets to keep him to herself."

"Well, I don't know about that."

"Oh, come on. Just look at him. Just waiting right outside for you."

"Alright now. Enough of this." you said as you put your coat on. "I'm heading out."

"I'll see you back here later." she chuckles as you head out.

You find Major Egan just where he said he'd be. As you pass him and make your way to the gates outside, he starts walking with you, keeping his hands in his pockets.

"That's your work done for the day?" he asks casually.

"I have to get back in a few hours.... night shift."

"Ah... sure. Night shift. Busy workload tonight?"

"I don't think so."

He keeps his hands in his pockets the entire time, but he seems comfortable, confident, and content. "I bet it'll get busy in there." he adds, pointing to the cafe. "They have some of the best coffee and food around here."

"Have you been there lately?" you ask.

"It's been a little while now." he replies. "I had some time off last night and was going to go there, but I ended up making a stop by the hospital." he shrugs a little. "Had to see if you were looking after these soldiers properly, of course." he adds jokingly, raising an eyebrow at you.

"Yeah, you've been a real caring Major these last few weeks."

"Well, I was just making sure you were up to the task of caring for our troops." he continues.

"Oh, your soldiers never complained."

He smiles at your comment. "Glad to hear it." He looks at you again, a small grin on his face. "Or maybe it's just that they have something nice to look at while they're recovering?"

"Alright now Major Egan."

"Oh come on, why don't you just call me John, hm?"

You looked at him for a couple of seconds. "If you're sure."

He gives you a little nod, still smiling. "Absolutely."

You approach the cafe and he holds the door open for you as you walk inside.

The cafe is busy as John said it'd be. Off duty soldiers fill the place with their drinks, raised voices and the smell of cigars. Most of them are playing a game of cards at the tables. Several are chatting and laughing with each other, making it a very lively environment. Major Egan steps inside and closes the door behind him.

"It is busy, isn't it?" he asks as he guides you to an empty table. He holds your seat out for you before sitting down across from you. "You don't mind it being so busy, do you?"

"Not at all."

He smiles, his hands still in his pockets. A waiter comes to your table and takes your order. John asks you what you want and then orders for you. You just smile politely at the waiter before he heads off.

"I'm glad you agreed to come with me this afternoon." he says after a moment in silence. You notice him leaning forward on the table as the conversation continues. He seems quite calm, but you can tell how focused he is on you.

At one point, one of the soldiers at another table glances over at the two of you, and then nudged the others at the table. There's a murmur of conservation and a few more glances as the others take note of the Major and the nurse sitting together again.

The Major doesn't seem to notice though. It remains a lighthearted conversation, but there's an undercurrent of something a little bit more going on underneath the surface.

Before either of you realize, both of you have been talking to each other for half an hour. The Major shows no signs of losing interest in the conversation.

After a while, a couple first year Sergeants approach the table curiously, excitedly presenting themselves to John.

"Major Egan, sir!" the first says confidently.

"Major." the second follows. They both glance at you a tad nervously.

The Major looks up at them and smiles, still sitting at the table casually. "At ease, gentlemen" he says, raising his hands off the table, but still relaxed.

"Sir, a few of the men were wondering if they could get an extended leave, due to the successful mission earlier today."

The Major stares at the first Sergeant for a second, and his eyes dart over to you. He's still smiling a little, but there's a serious side to him that comes through as he talks with them.

"I understand that you were planning on extending their leave to allow them to rest?" he replies to both men.

"Yes, sir." the first replies "if that's alright with you, sir?"

"It's alright, Sergeant." the Major nods again. "There'll will be no issue on my part in regards to that. How many days are you looking at?" he asks, looking between the two Sergeants.

"Around a week" one of them replied boldly "if that's fine with you sir?"

"A week, hm?" he stares at them for a moment. "A week should be sufficient for them to recharge, especially after a mission like this morning. Make it happen."

The Sergeants both nod their heads. "Yes, sir." They both give you a resrpectful salute before turning back around and walking to the larger table.

"Major Egan..." you say mockingly. He was so different when he talked to you.

He glances over at you with a little half grin. "Yeah?" He laid back in his chair as he waits for you to continue.

"And just when I was about to call you John." You say.

He chuckles softly at that. "Go ahead and call me John. If anyone around here is going to call me that, it should be you." he took a sip from his beer.

That gave you a chill down your spine, out of nervousness.

He sees that he has gotten some sort of reacting out of you, but that smile still remains on his face. "Go ahead, call me John."

"Alright, stop that." you chuckle.

"I just want you to call me by my first name. Is that too much to ask?"

You look at him in the eyes for a second, before smiling. "In here?"

"Here" he pauses "or anywhere else if you'd like." He lays back and continues to smile. That damn smile.

As you take in his comment, music starts to blast and all the soldiers rise from their seats and grab the women to dance. The cafe instantly becomes an athmosphere of fun and liveliness.

The Major glances over at the dance floor. "Would you like to join me?"

You nod your head shyly, and take John's hands as he pulls you into the dance floor. The music is a classic swing tune, and the soldiers all seem to know the moves perfectly, moving with rhythm and flow in a very playful mood.

Major Egan seems to be familiar with the dance, and as he moves with you his confidence and skill is undeniable. He leads you easily, gently pulling you around and twirl you in his arms, and all the while, he stays completely focused on keeping you steady, stable.

"You're a good dancer." he tells you, still smiling playfully as he does. He spins you around in his arms and then back around again, pulling you close enough so that his face is inches from yours. He's still maintaining a comfortable distance between you two, but it's evident that he wants to be so much closer.

The music begins to pick up more, and as it does, his moves become just a little bit more intimate and playful. His arms around your waist. It's clear that he's more than just enjoying the dance.

Moving his hands down to your hips as he holds you, not giving you quite as much space as before. He tilts his head and gets closer to your face, maintaining that same playful grin.

"Careful, John." you say over the music, teasing him.

He chuckles at the teasing, but he doesn’t pull away, nor does he stop dancing with you.

His movements get a little bit more playful now, bringing you in even closer.

"John..." you begin.

“Yes?” He stares at you with that same grin on his face, but his eyes have become more intense now, as if wanting to know where this is going.

"Kiss me." you ask.

His eyes remain on you as he stares quietly for a second, but then he finally leans in to meet your offer. There is nothing playful or light-hearted about this exchange. This is a serious and bold moment for the both of you. Major Egan goes completely for it, pressing his lips against yours. And as he does, his hands moves to your hips and pulls you even closer to him. The kiss was slow but eager, like weeks of tension have been building up. Every movement and gesture felt intentional. His hands on your hips feel more intense and firm now. You pulled back and heard the music echo.

The moment of silence was deafening.

The music was no longer all that you could think about. He stares back at you, clearly still wanting more, but he holds back from following through in that very moment.

"Let's go." you say looking up at him.

He doesn't answer, but simply nods his head. He takes your hand in his own, and together, the two of you exit the dance floor and leave the cafe. As soon as you hit the street night air, John grabs your hand and pulls you close again, his lips finding his way to yours. Your bodies are pressed against one another, and the intimacy of the moment is undeniable. His lips find yours again, this time, more eagerly. And he lingers for a second or two, savoring the kiss. This time, it feels like he’s taking it further, as his hands start moving down to your waist more playfully.

“You wanna take me to bed?” You simply say.

He looks back at you, a bit amused at the question, but also somewhat surprised that you had the boldness to suggest that.

He stares for a second, his lips partially parted. “Yeah. I do.”

His answers are blunt and straightforward. But there’s also a confidence and assertiveness about him that makes it very evident that he is completely and totally up for that idea.

You smiled. He smiles back at you, before leaning forward to take your hand again. But this time, he doesn't just hold your hand. He interlocks his fingers with yours, his hand more possessive now as he glances down at your interwined fingers.

He leads you back into the base, guiding you towards his quarters.

The silence between you two is punctuated with little whispers and small talk here and there, but overall, the atmosphere is very much still intimate and playful between the two of you.

You noticed your environment. You've never been in this part of the base before, as it was only reserved for the Majors. It’s clear that this is a very private side of the base, for these higher ranking officers to be able to relax in the company of their women.

As you walk down the corridor, you hear the song My Funny Valentine by Chet Baker echoeing from a hall near by. Major Egan guides you through the hallway, the two of you still following hand in hand, until you both finally arrive at his room. You enter and before you could assimilate the space around you, John grabs your waist from behind, spins you around and you watch him close the door behind him so effortelessly, just before he kisses you gently, but passionately.

Everything around you has become a blur now, but you feel his hand on your back, leading you closer to his bed.

You start to walk backwards as he guided you. You put your arms around his neck, looking for support as he kisses you eagerly now. You jump, clinging into his body, as he grabs the back of your legs with his hands, easily supporting your weight. You moan quietly as he starts to feel your skin under your skirt as he holds you with both his hands.

John exhales soundly. "God..." he trailed off "You even sound beautiful."

His lips attack yours once again, filled with desire. His comment gave you chills all over your body. You felt him sit on the bed, you now straddling his lap. Being this close to him left you intoxicated, even speechless. You had nothing to say to him. Your attempts seemed to only come as careless whispers or moans as he explored your body with his hands.

"John..." you finally spoke.

You felt him smile into the kiss. "Yes?"

You took a second to answer, processing his touch. "Fuck me." You finally said.

He couldn't hide his smile. "I wanted to do this right." he paused as you looked at him. "I wanted to make love to you first."

The smirk plastered on his face made you melt. His eyes glistening with adoration for you.

You retributed the smile. "Sweet John..." you began tracing his features with your fingers. "Please do that."

You saw his smile grow slightly wider just before he closed the gap between both your lips.

He held you closer, his grip on you more firm, but never once hurting you.

“I imagined this moment a lot.” He confessed.

You began to take his uniform off. His shoulders so broad and his arms like two comforters around your torso. He did the same with your clothes but taking his sweet time to take in every little detail about you. The curve of your neck, the shape of your breasts and the freckles on your skin. Most of all he noticed the way your expression changed slightly when you became blushed with arousal.

His pants were bothering you, they were in the way. Your hand flew to his belt, trying to unbuckled it with no success. You saw him chuckle, surprisingly out of nervousness, as he helped you take it out. You always thought the Major John Egan would be swift in these manners, he had experience after all. It was the only thing nurses talked about, how much luck he had with women, inside or outside base. Was it so hard to believe that he could be actually nervous because you were the one unbuttoning his pants and trying to discard them? That was hard to grasp.

John grabbed the low of your back with one arm, supporting the other on the bed to lay you on top of it. He stood sat on the bed even after kicking his uniform pants, watching as you lay naked waiting for him to join you.

His expression was a mix of desire and adoration.

"What is it?" You asked laughing.

He shook his head slightly. "Nothing." he opened his mouth for a second before speaking. "I just think you're the most beautiful thing I've seen walk this earth."

You visibly blushed. How could you not? "You're just saying that because-" he interrumpted you immediately.

"Clothed or not." He said plainly, guessing the rest of your phrase. He looked at your face for a couple of seconds, and you did the same with difficulty. He was so handsome, his hair dischevelled falling perfectly on his forehead.

Not bearing it being away from him one more second, you grabbed his hand and pulled him to lay on top of you, opening your legs, allowing for him to fit in the empty space.

He immediately kissed you, your bodies now glued to each other. You could feel his hard member press against your core. You bent your kness, allowing him access. Your way of letting him know what you wanted.

He positioned himself at your entrance, ever so carefully. He looked at your expression as you gasped slightly, feeling him. He then kissed you gently, but eagerly, as he pushed himself inside you, slowly. Your mouth hang open as you threw your head slightly back on the pillow. He looked down at you, and he swore he could come undone right then and there, watching you in that blissful state.

You felt his lips on your neck, beginning in the low of your jaw until the base of your neck. You exhaled when you felt his touch and he could feel the vibrations of your voice on his lips.

His thrusts were purposely slow so you could adjust to his size. Soon enough he started to go deeper as you dig your nails in his upper back muscles.

"Faster." You pleaded, your voice only coming out as a low whimper.

He could hear it alright. John picked up his pace and you moaned louder as you felt every inch of him molding you.

"You feel so good." you heard him say between grunts into your lips.

You brought your lips to his, kissing him deeply. You broke it to speak finally. "John..." you called out his name. "I'm- I'm close."

"I know sweetheart, I know you are." his voice intoxicated you with desire, you could barely control yourself. "I can feel you closing on me." he continued thrusting in and out at that perfect pace. "You can let go... I wanna see that perfect face when you cum."

That was enough for you to explode. You soon came undone, your voice a higher pitch when you moaned his name a couple of times. You felt his warm release spill inside you. His face inches away from yours, mouths open, exhaling as you both reached your high. The moment that followed seemed like completely silent, only your breaths almost in perfect sync.

He smiled after noticing tears of pleasure in the corner of both your eyes, kissing each one of them away from your face. You both moaned when he removed himself inside you, both still very much overstimulated.

He laid next to you, immediately pushing you into his chest, arms wrapped around you. There were no words needed. You guys didn't have to talk about what happened. It was clear.

A few minutes were passed in silence. You looked at the clock on his wall, which marked almost twelve.

"Shit, I have to go. The night shift." you grabbed a bed sheet instinctively to cover yourself as you sat up, looking for your clothes scattered on his bedroom's floor.

"No." his voice lingered, pulling you back on the bed again. "You're staying here tonight."

You smiled as you looked at his sleepy expression. "I don't think that's up for you to decide. The doctors do our schedules, I have to show up to work."

His voice became deeper with tiredness. "I'm Major Egan. I can make a few calls." He suggested, his voice now more playful. "If you'd like to stay here with me tonight." his demeanour expectant.

You looked at him for a couple of seconds, giving thought to his offer. A smile escaped your lips, as you lay in the bed again, slightly embarrassed.

"They can get by without you one night. I can't." he admitted while wrapping his arms around your torso, setting the covers on top of you both.

[mountain-star]

I really want to see a MOTA fic where Marge writes Bucky for some reason early on, in addition to writing to Gale. And it quickly becomes clear that the Buckies are reading each others letters. She'll make a claim on Gale in a letter to Bucky that Gale refutes in his own reply. Or she'll suggest something to Gale and Bucky is the one who tells her how it goes. Pretty soon she's writing individual and collective letters back and forth during the war. They build intimacy with her and thus with each other. When they end up in the Stalag, she writes letters to both of them, a little about her own life of course but full of words to keep their spirits up. All throughout this there have been euphamisms and lots of extremely oblique acknowledgements of what she suspects they want from each other and from her, but also what she wants from them. She enourages them to take care of one another, phrasing it in a particular, careful, but completely innocent manner. I'm aching for an intimate slow-build punctuated by letters the Buckies exchange with Marge. And I imagine a happily ever after for the three of them.

[hib1scusl0ver]

One night only.

John “Bucky” Egan x WAAF!reader

Ch.1 | “You’ll forget my name in the morning.”

tw: mentions of war, angst, grief, smut 🔞, fluff, alcohol consumption, unprotected 😝

pairings: john egan x british WO!reader

synopsis: Major Egan takes the stress off in a London pub, where he crosses paths with the apple of his eye. Their hearts collide in the heart of war effort. Only to find out soon after that their romance is strictly forbidden by the positions they hold.

-

Just another drink.

You told yourself. You didn’t even plan on going out in the first place but yet here you were downing your 5th glass of straight whiskey. But after 14 hours spent in a concrete bunker under a pile of headphone static and German code, you needed something stronger than tea and something louder than your own thoughts.

The pub was close. It was familiar. Buzzing with the kind of laughter that only exists when everyone’s pretending that they’re not one air raid away from becoming a name heard on the telegram.

You sat by the bar alone, your uniform buttoned high with your hair that’s struggling to keep its bun intact. You could feel stares from some of the American airmen, they stared like they haven’t seen a woman in months.

You sighed and sipped the rest of your drink, wincing as the alcohol seeped into your throat.

You ignored them- or tried to.

Then he sat down.

“Bet ya I can guess your name in three tries.” he said. The voice was raspy with a tone of lightheartedness.

You chuckled, bringing your glass down on the counter. “Bet you can’t.”

“Janet. Evelyn. Amelia.”

You hadn’t even shot a glance in his direction. You arched your eyebrow and scoffed. “Those are all terrible guesses.” You shook your head as you turned towards him.

“Alright, but I’ll buy you a drink til’ I get it right, how bout that?”

His eyes were blue, dark under the amber lighting. Tired, matching your pair only he had a liveliness that felt uncommon nowadays. He was handsome- in the way trouble often is. His cheekbones were sharp. Smiled like he knew it.

“Are you Americans always this forward?”

“Only when we’re about to fly into flak over France,” he said. “Name’s John. John Egan.”

You softened slightly at the weight of his honesty. He didn’t flinch when he said it. Didn’t bother to wrap it in charm. He looked at you like he desperately needed something solid to hold onto. And tonight, that might just be you.

“You’re from the 100th I take it?,” you asked. Nodding toward the patch he wore on his sleeve.

“Guilty. And you’re WAAF, so what’s your story?” He asked with genuine curiousity, you notice his eyes linger on your crown insignia for a brief moment. It was given to you when you earned your position as a Warrant Officer.

He brought you a dacquiri. You never had a taste for them but with scarcity of whiskey, what was the harm in trying?

You thanked him and brought the glass to your lips, taking a sip. The way he watched you intently sent a shiver to your spine. Almost exciting.

You took a deep breath. “Communications. Mostly listening to radios and pretending not to get attached to voices that disappear mid-transmission.”

He winced. “Guess we both got ghosts huh?”

The silence that followed wasn’t awkward. Just true- and honest. The kind of silence that only people who have stared too long at death can share.

“So,” he leaned in, a grin returning. “You got a rule against talking to the airmen, or am I your first bad decision of the night?”

You smiled, slowly. “Who says I haven’t made three already?”

“Make me the fourth.”

You should have pushed him away. Should’ve just finished your drink, thanked him and gone home.

But there was something about the way he looked at you— like he wasn’t sure he’d be breathing by the morning- made you stay.

And when the piano in the corner started playing, and the lights dimmed for the blackout. You couldn’t bring yourself to deny him as he lead you to into a slow-swaying dance you’d never forget.

John’s hand was at your waist. Not low. Not greedy. Just there, warm through the fabric of your uniform. Steady. In the middle of all this chaos. His other hand held yours like it meant something.

You didn’t mutter any words as you danced. Words would’ve broken whatever fragile thing had just developed between you two.

His cheek brushed yours once — not on purpose — maybe — but he didn’t move away when it did. You just breathed together. One sway at a time. Just two people pretending like they weren’t afraid of tomorrow.

When the music ended, no one clapped. The world didn’t need applause tonight. You leaned back a little, and looked up at him. “You still trying to guess my name Major?”

The Major miled and shook his head. “I think I like not knowing your name. Makes you more dangerous.” You shared a smile.

And then did the thing you promised yourself you wouldn’t.

You said softly: “Come with me.”

He never asked where. He just followed.

The night was quiet—too quiet. The kind that only happens between bombings. The air held its breath like it knew it wouldn’t last.

John walked half a pace behind you, like he didn’t want to presume. Hands in his pockets and his shoulders tense. You didn’t speak and neither did he.

Your breath fogged in the cold. But it was no different to the cold you already felt deep within. The only warmth you’d felt in days was from the stranger you met not even an hour ago. But it was familiar and new at the same time.

Your boots echoed just slightly, not loud enough to draw attention but just enough to remind you that you were still here. Still walking. Still flesh and blood in a city built of grief and ghosts.

Somewhere in the distance, an engine droned. Not a bomb. Not tonight.

But the sound still made your stomach tighten.

You noticed his glance from the corner of your eye. But he didn’t say a word. A block from your building, you slowed your steps.

“You live far?” he asked finally — voice low, not breaking the quiet so much as folding into it.

“No,” you said. “Close enough to run to the shelter if I need to.”

He gave a small, grim smile. “That’s practical.”

“It has to be.”

Your building loomed ahead — narrow, tired, bricks blackened by time and war. A few steps led up to the door. You paused at the bottom, hand on the rail.

You glanced at him. “You don’t have to come up.”

It was the last chance either of you had to walk away. And you gave it to him — because whatever happened next, you needed it to be his choice too.

John didn’t move for a second. His eyes met yours in the dark. And then he said, just loud enough to be heard:

“I don’t want to be anywhere else.”

The door creaked when you unlocked it, you hated it. Always felt like it betrayed you— let the night follow you in too easily.

He stepped inside behind you, slower now. Looking. Taking it in. His gaze swept over the coat hooks, the bookshelf, the narrow little table you ate at alone most nights.

You turned on one lamp, just enough to make shadows dance on the walls. “It’s not much,” you murmured, taking off your gloves. “Just enough to sleep and drink tea and wait.”

“It’s yours,” he said.

That word meant more than it should’ve.

He stood in your flat like he didn’t want to touch anything. Like being here meant more than he could say. Your coat hit the hook with a soft thud, and for a moment, you just stood there in the quiet.

“You can sit,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. You nodded toward the small sofa you’d gotten — it added sense of homeliness you thought.

“I didn’t come here to sit,” he replied. You turned slowly. He was watching you with that look again — not hungry. But steady. Like he saw you for you. All of you.

“Why did you come here then?” You mumbled.

He stepped forward, just one pace — closing the gap between you two. Your breath caught in your throat as you felt the warmth he held. “Because you looked at me like I could be the last thing you wanted to feel.”

Your breath unstuck, you closed the minimal space between you.

You kissed him first.

It was a deliberate thing. It wasn’t soft nor shy. You pressed your lips to his with an urgency you’d been holding back since the pub—maybe even longer.

His hands came down on your waist, pulling you flush against him. The kiss deepened—it was slow at first but thick with tension. Heat blooming in your stomach. He groaned softly into your mouth as you gripped his neck. Your hands moving down to grip his uniform just barely above the buttons.

His voice was low and rough when he pulled away to speak. “Tell me to stop if this is too much.”

“Dont you dare.”

The man smiled into your collarbone. You could feel the heat of him through your uniform. Every breath, every shift of muscle under skin.

“Take it off,” you whispered.

His hands were big and warm, sliding over your stomach, your ribs, the undersides of your breasts before he finally cupped them — thumbs grazing your nipples, slow and teasing. You arched into him instinctively, and he chuckled, breath hot.

“There you go. That’s it.”

He dipped his head and took one nipple into his mouth, sucking slow and deep, his other hand kneading gently. You gasped, one hand flying to his hair as your hips twitched forward against him.

He moved slowly — too slowly at first like he wanted to memorize this moment. Your uniform came undone by his fingers, a button at a time, dragged with aching patience down your arms. He undressed you like he was unwrapping something fragile — peeling each layer off with care, pausing to trace the skin he uncovered with his fingers, his mouth. The cool air hit your bare skin in wave yet still he didn’t touch—not fully.

By the time he dropped to his knees in front of you, you were already soaked. He ran his hands up your thighs, slowly, thumbs tracing the insides, until he reached the damp patch in your underwear.

His eyes locked with yours.

“You’re this wet from just kissing?”

“From you.”

That earned you a groan.

Suddenly, his hands were everywhere — your throat, your breasts, your waist — fingers digging in like he couldn’t believe you were real. “God, look at you,” he groaned. He kissed your hipbones, then mouthed at the fabric, wetting it further with his tongue through the cloth. “I’ve dreamed of something like this. Never actually thought I could have it. You.”

He spread your thighs, guiding one leg over his shoulder, and buried his mouth between your legs.

You let out a sharp gasp as his mouth met your inner thigh, then higher. His tongue flicked against your clit, slow at first, teasing, coaxing your hips to move with him. He gripped your thighs and held you open, licked into you with focused heat, until you were arching and grinding into his face, chasing the edge like it was the only thing left in the world.

It was almost too much.

His tongue was relentless, but precise — stroking up and down your slit before focusing on your clit in slow, tight circles. Then faster. His fingers dug into your thighs, holding you steady as your hips bucked.

“Let go,” he said against you. “Come for me. I want to feel it.”

You listened, completely coming undone before him. You moaned through clenched teeth, muttering his name like a prayer. You felt your orgasm roll through you like thunder.

He didn’t stop. Not until you were gasping, trying to catch your breath, thighs twitching from overstimulation. Then he kissed your inner thigh, “That’s one.” He smirked, coming up to your face to leave a kiss on your cheek.

He scoops your knees with his arms in a swift motion, he picked you up like it cost him nothing. Carrying you to the bedroom, you guide him blindly — your hands intertwined on the nape of his neck.

The room was cool, contrast to the warmth you both shared. Your sheets were still rumpled from the last dream you couldn’t finish. John backed you toward the bedroom, kissing down your jaw and your neck.

The kiss that followed was messy, longing and frantic at the same time. He pushed you gently but firmly onto the bed, and not once did his lips leave yours. Settling over you with a weight that felt grounding and good.

Th sensitivity of your skin intensified under his touch. You arch your back as his tongue circled your nipples.

You moaned his name, and begged for his touch —consumed by the daze you both were trapped in. “C’mon tell me what you want of me and I’ll do it.” He whispers, bringing his lips to yours — it was eager and hungry.

You reached for his shirt, yanked it up and over his head. No further words needed.

Rough wool and warm skin giving way to the lean heat of his chest. He was all taut muscle and war-shaped edges. Your fingers brushed the scar on his ribs. He didn’t flinch.

“Does it hurt?” you whispered.

“Not when you’re touching it.”

You kissed him then — chest to chest, bare skin to bare skin, heartbeats stuttering as you climbed back onto the bed, dragging him with you. Your hands slid over his chests, and felt the heat of him. The raw realness of a man who might be gone tomorrow.

He caught your wrist in his hand.

“Are you sure about this?”

“No,” you whispered. “But I want you anyway.”

And that was all he needed.

His mouth was everywhere — your throat, the space just under your breast, the line of your hip. His hands explored like he had all night, though you both knew you didn’t. Time was never generous. But he acted like he could stretch it, just for this.

Your thighs parted for him with ease, and he settled between them like he belonged there.

His hand slid down, fingers teasing, touching, coaxing gasps from your throat as he pressed circles where you needed him.

He climbed up your body, kissing you deeply — letting you taste yourself on his tongue — and reached down to free himself, his heavy cock hot and thick and already pressing against your slick heat.

“There,” you moaned, hips bucking. “Please.”

“If I start,” he murmured, voice rough and ragged, “I won’t stop.”

“Then don’t stop.”

He pushed into you with a low, guttural groan — the sound of a man trying not to fall apart all at once. Sliding in with one long, slow thrust — his length filling every empty space inside of you as he stretched your walls.

“Jesus,” he rasped, stilling deep inside. “You feel—fuck, you feel like heaven. Like home.”

You whimpered at the foreign feeling of a size like his. He held still for a moment — forehead pressed to yours, lips brushing as he whispered:

“God… you feel like something I forgot I needed.”

He moved in deep, hungry strokes — not fast at first- just enough to make you feel every inch of him. You wrapped your legs around him, his cock feeling suffocated by the confines your warmth had him in.

Your head fell back against the pillow, breath catching at the stretch — the weight of him, the heat. He filled you so completely it made your toes curl, and when he started to move, it wasn’t gentle anymore.

He fucked you like a man who’d waited years for this moment. Like he was trying to erase every bad day, every mission, every loss with the feel of your body wrapped around his.

His fingers slid down your waist, over your hip, between your thighs. He touched you like he’d done it before — not with you, but with ghosts of women he never had the chance to love properly. You arched into him, gasping quietly as he eased your body into his rhythm.

Swiftly, he pins both of your wrists above your head. “Look at you,” he gasped. “Taking what you want.”

“I want you.”

You barely had the time to process what you’d said under the heat of the moment. The words came out not as an elicit response — but a truth you couldn’t deny.

“Then you have me.” The tension built again — faster and more intense than previously.

His pace was yearnful and relentless, his length hitting deep, over and over, until you were crying out his name like a prayer. “Yes—God, John—don’t stop—” .

“I’m not fucking stopping.” The grip on your wrists tightened just enough to make you gasp — not pain, but control. Ownership. His free hand slid under your thigh, pulling your hips higher so he could angle deeper.

“That’s it,” he hissed. “You take me so fucking well.”

He evoked a feeling so strong — next second you were coating him with your slick as you rode our second orgasm. Much so to his sinful words that pushed you over the edge as your free from his grip to drag your nails across his back.

He didn’t slow down — not yet. He fucked you through it, his breath ragged, teeth clenched, his pace wild and unforgiving. And when he came, it was with a broken moan against your throat. Instinctively gripping you tight to his chest, shaking — gasping against your mouth like he just survived a crash. His hips jerking, cock twitching deep inside you as he emptied himself with everything he had.

He stayed buried in you, chest heaving while his forehead pressed to yours. Both of you trembling, trying to come down from the instensity you both shared.

Silence fell.

Only your breathing filled the room— harsh, uneven,

human.

He let go of your wrists, gently. Traced his fingers over the faint marks he’d left. You didn’t flinch — you grabbed his face and kissed him, long and slow, like you didn’t care what tomorrow held.

Neither of you spoke for a long time. It wasn’t awkward—it was content. A mutual contentment.

You were a blink away from sleep until he whispered, “Tell me your name now.”

“Vera.” You whispered in response.

He closed his eyes like it was a secret he’d carry into the dark. “You’ll forget my name in the morning.” You murmured.

John turned to look at you. “You alright Vera?” he whispered, voice hoarse. Earning a small smile from you—your cheeks heat up from the way your name rolled off his tongue.

“More than alright.” You let out a tired chuckle.

He exhaled a laugh and lowered himself beside you, still tangled in your limbs.

“Can’t promise I won’t make a mess of your sheets,” he murmured.

“Can’t promise I won’t ask you to do it again.” You bit your lip gently as you locked eyes with him.

He smiled at that. But the tenderness in his eyes stayed.

Wartime wasn’t meant for love.

But sometimes it made something even stronger: need.

And tonight, John Egan needed you.

[abutlergallery]

𝘨𝘢𝘭𝘦 "𝘣𝘶𝘤𝘬" 𝘤𝘭𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 | 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘪𝘳

[bellesdreamyprofile]

Invisible String - Major Gale Cleven

summary (invisible wife series): Buck is back from the war, but he's not the same anymore. His lack of attention, love and care turned you into an invisible being.

He didn't need to wear a uniform anymore. Or fly a B-17.

He didn't need to drop bombs anymore. Or use a gun. 

Gale Cleven didn't need to do any of that anymore. He was back home, safe and sound. There was no danger, no worries that his life or the one of his friends would be lost forever. None of that. But a part of him hardly realized that the nightmare was over, and the person suffering was you. 

You vaguely remembered the first time you saw him as he got off the train. Tears cascaded down your cheeks like two waterfalls, your hand muffled your salty cries and your knees shook. You ran up to him, engulfing him in a hug that you had been dreaming about for years — but his arms stayed by his side, his body stiffened. Your lips were almost kissing his ear, murmuring sweet little things. 

Buck remained quiet, without uttering a single word. You pulled away, eyes wide scanning his face for anything. The blue in his eyes wasn't bright anymore, the grey dullness now overwhelming. You didn't need him to say anything to understand that he wasn't the man you married all those years ago.

But you were a good wife, always asking, always caring. "More coffee, my love?", he would hum, shake his head or nod. The words started tumbling after a while, when his silence had become too loud. When you begged him to.

"I need— I need to hear your voice, Buck.", you squeezed his hand, leaning your forehead against the back of it. "Please.", your gaze raised, teary eyes looking back at him.

But he didn't feel anything. Not anymore.

A sigh fell from his lips, gaze shifting away.

"What do you want me to say?"

Your eyes widened, thankful for the miracle that was the sound of his voice. Rough and quiet in ways you weren't used to anymore, but that was okay, you'd get used to anything as long as it made him happy.

Your friends also had men coming home from the war. You heard all kinds of stories — traumas, awkwardness, discomfort, happiness to be finally back home.

"How's your Buck, Y/N?"

You shifted awkwardly, not knowing what to say. So you lied, describing him as the most perfect, loving and caring man you had ever known. Even mentioned how proud of a wife you were. Then you smiled, genuinely smiled, your subconscious buying your lie.

The girls giggled, dreaming wide-eyed about your husband, talking about his blonde hair and blue eyes. "As blue as the sky. My James doesn't have eyes like him, I swear. You're hella lucky, Y/N."

You gave them a tight smile and shrugged, stepping out of the fake reality you had created for yourself.

"Hey honey.", you pushed the door open with a small smile. "What a rush! Turns out that the whole town wants the very best bread, huh.", you pulled out the loaf of bread from your basket.

Buck looked up from the couch, his gaze distant, but not as cold as it had been for the past months. His attention was back on the TV. "I won't stay for dinner tonight."

Your chest sank. "What? Why?", you set the basket on the kitchen counter and made your way to your husband. "Are you okay?", you carefully set a palm on his forehead, and he flinched. The reaction was quick, almost unnoticed. But you had been studying your husband since he had come back — of course you noticed every little detail.

You retracted your hand, gulping down the guilt, waiting for his response — anything. 

"I'm meeting with Bucky.", his tone was short, disinterested.

"He's not staying at home with his wife and the baby?", you raised an eyebrow, finding a seat on the end of the sofa. "Dolly just had their baby."

No concrete reaction, just another response. "I'm going to their house, yeah."

Your lips parted, in a mix of confusion and shock. "Oh.", was all you could mutter. 

Should you suggest for you also to go there? Make an excuse so you could help Dolly and her baby, maybe see an old friend? But it should come from him. Not you.

"O-Okay...", stinging tears built in your eyes, unwanted and rendered useless. "Have fun.", that was the most acidic response you had ever given him. You swallowed the bitter words that threatened to fall from your lips and turned around, heading upstairs.

Tears ran down your cheeks, finally falling with no refrains. You ended up in what would've been your baby's room — that had been decided in one of the letters Gale had sent you from the camp. He fed you with hope, desperation, love... Now you were underfed. You couldn't have what you craved for.

The door shut and your hands found the vinyl you always played when you wanted to run away from the reality you were forced to stay in. Music allowed you to go beyond the little cottage you lived in, beyond your depressed husband and unsatisfactory life.

Music gave you the same delusions Buck had, but these lasted longer. They lingered in your head as you closed your eyes — until you crashed and your knees met the hardwood flood.

The tears wouldn't stop falling and your cries could hardly be muffled by your hand. You felt hopeless. Your shoulders kept shaking and your eyes finally opened, looking at the white crib and little toys you had crafted your baby. All things that were going to live in your head only.

"God.", you looked up, hands clasped together. "I promised I'd be strong. I promised I'd have courage and be kind and love my husband. I-I know he's been through a lot, but... I-I can't do this anymore— I'm not that strong, I'm not that strong anymore.", your gaze lowered, your hands shaking as muffled prayers trespassed your lips.

"Please give me strength— god, please give me strength."

You hadn't noticed that the door was left ajar.

Your cries weren't the sound that encouraged Buck to stand up. It was the song.

His eyes closed as he listened to the sweet melody — the song you had danced to at your wedding. The memory of your pristine white dress was what kept him alive for all those years. The way you danced and his hands gripped your hips, aware of the hungry eyes looking at you. She's mine, she's mine, you're mine.

Gale's thoughts lingered, your lips still very much present on his skin even after all those years. He remembered the softness of your hands, the carelessness of your smile — he remembered it all, dreaming about the day he'd feel you again.

Now he could — you were there, sleeping in the same bed under the same roof. You were still the one, unchanged, still loving, still caring. But he wasn't. His eyes gazed at the disappointment that faced him each morning in the mirror. Gale noticed the bags under your eyes, the smile that wasn't as bright anymore — all caused by him, by the illusion of the man he thought he was.

Destroyed by war, destroyed by his own thoughts.

"Y/N?"

You didn't look up at the sound of your name. The record kept playing, haunting the both of you with memories of what it was — of what it still could be.

"Y/N...", you didn't catch the softness of Buck's tone, nor the way he crouched down beside you. "Darlin'..."

No, no, you were dreaming. None of this was real. The hand on your shoulder wasn't real, the lips on your temple weren't real.

"G-Gale?", your head tilted lightly, taken aback by the sight of him, teary eyed. "W-What are you doing h-here?"

Buck looked at you, eyes taking in every detail he was too afraid to look at. Your puffy eyes, rosy cheeks, the birthmarks on your forehead and temple. Your bottom lip wobbled, like you were going to burst into a fit of cries all over again.

Then his eyes moved back on you. Blue. Maybe it was the light playing tricks on you, or maybe your Buck was finally back to you.

His hand raised, brushing a lone tear from your cheek — the record stopped playing. The only background sound being scrunching noses and synchronized breaths.

"C-Can I hug you? Please?"

Your eyes shut, unable to respond. But you nodded, testing the moment. Testing him.

Gale's knees hit the floor slowly, his hands set on his thighs, twitching in hesitation. Oh, how he wished the war hadn't torn him apart. He was broken, so broken — unfixable. But he needed to try, for you. He needed to try, because he never wanted to hear you beg god for strength he was supposed to provide. 

His hands touched your skin first, pulling you in slowly. Memories of soft touches and simple times blooming all over again. That's it, he thought, I know this, I know how to take care of you. 

Your body leaned in, still weary. Then your skin tingled with something unprecedented, your heart thumped wildly against your ribs. You felt like you were being with Gale for the first time all over again. Buck's hands traced your arms until they found the curve of your waist, resting there for a moment. His face was dangerously close to yours, each breath like a melody hitting your ears.

"You deserve more...", he sorrowfully mumbled. "You deserve better than I am... I'm sorry, I'm so sorry.", his head finally leaned on yours, like he was caving in for the first time since coming home.

"No...", you spoke, your voice raw from crying. "I deserve exactly what I have. I deserve you, Gale.", you couldn't bear losing the look in his eyes, so you turned around to see those baby blues. Eyes that used to be so full of joy, eyes that gloomed under the moonlight.

"How can you say that?", his voice broke the silence with fragility.

You smiled tearfully, hand slowly rising to cup his cheek. "Because you're the love of my life. My husband. And I love you.", your bottom lip wobbled, then tucked inside your mouth. "And I hate what that war did to you... They took my husband away."

Gale lowly gasped in surprise. "They took me away...", he muttered slowly, eyes trained on you.

"I want my husband back.", you said as more tears threatened to fall. "I miss him. I miss his kisses, hugs, jokes... Please give him back to me. Please.", your hands trailed to the collar of his shirt, holding onto it for dear life.

The sincerity of your words shattered him. Something twitched. Something broke. Then Gale's tears preceded yours, rolling down his cheeks for the first time since after you had been separated.

"Oh, my love...", you pulled him into you, your hands brushing the hairs behind his neck as your eyes closed in the fragility of the moment. "I love you, I always will." Gale cried in your neck. It was minutes, maybe even hours — you didn't know, you just savored the most you could have with your husband.

"I'll be better, please... Give me another chance. I-I don't wanna lose you.", he pulled away, looking at you with red, teary eyes. "I can't lose you, please Y/N."

You shook your head. "You won't, I promise— just...", you hesitated, unsure whether to express your thoughts.

"W-What?", Buck's shaky hands reached your cheeks, caressing them with the outmost care. "Tell me, baby."

You sniffled, pressing your lips into a thin line. "I-I need you to kiss me, Gale."

Buck's didn't flinch in surprise. The pupils in his eyes dilated, his lips parted and his tongue made a brief appearance. He wanted that too.

He hummed, leaning closer as his eyes fluttered shut. His lips fell on yours for a sharp moment, then slowly pulled away, giving you a moment to step back if you desired to. But you didn't. Gale's eyes opened again, the hesitation as clear as day.

"I love you.", he said, his words loud and clear in the moonlit room. You bit back your cries and itched closer to him, your breath touching his first.

"I love you, Gale.", and with a broken gasp, you pulled him to your lips. Finally. Every single emotion was brought to life — the anger of being left alone, of being rendered invisible, the relief of him living safe and sound, back in your arms. 

You waited for him to slow down, to flinch — but he didn't. 

"I love you, I love you—", you mumbled against his lips, your tears falling yet again. But it was no sadness causing them, it was relief — love.

"We got this— I'm back, we're back.", his hands found home through the stands of your hair. He nodded to himself, pressing another kiss to your lips. "My beautiful wife, my wife."

He gave you color, he gave you existence, and you weren't invisible anymore.

A/N: hope you enjoyed reading as much as I have enjoyed writing it💋 this was supposed to be a short, little chapter, but I just love buck so much ✈️🤍 thank you for reading 🎞️✨

MASTERLIST buck cleven masterlist

[majoregan]